


Damaged Goods

by Meridian (Meri)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-10-01
Updated: 2001-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:33:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meri/pseuds/Meridian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Bodie is injured and Doyle won't take no for an answer about taking care of him.</p><p>Originally published in A Third Priority A-3 - October 2001</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damaged Goods

Bodie knew he was dying. Lying sprawled on a stone floor – a place from which he had no hope of rescue -- he'd been beaten too badly to survive for very long. But that was what he's thought yesterday, or was it the day before. It didn't matter at all because he was dead already. If only it would stop hurting.

After capture, they -- and he had no idea who _they_ were -- had stripped him, and then beaten him repeatedly over what had seemed like days. Next came a bat. He wasn't sure what they had used, his eyes were too swollen at that point to make out exactly what it had been. All he'd known was that it hurt more than what they had been doing before. And it broke bones under his blistered and bruised skin, not to mention the rest of the damage it had done.

They never asked a single question, no demands for any kind of information. Whoever had done this, hadn't wanted to know anything, had only wanted to hurt him.

And they had.

His only regret was that he and Ray would never get that shot at happily ever after. But he had more than he'd ever thought to get, and that would do. He wasn't a man to give the gift back -- having had few enough of them in his life.

Over the years, he and Doyle had turned the emotions between them into a competitive game, taking each other's girlfriends, double dating, double fucking, and then finally, finally taking that final step, and admitting what they felt.

While they were active agents, there was no point to the admission -- it wasn't that anyone would care, either. There was a live and let live attitude in CI5, always had been. Cowley had always been the fairest man that Bodie'd ever met. Malone, who'd replaced Cowley as Controller two years ago, was just as fair. No, the real problem lay with the work they did and likelihood of being killed or maimed or worse being used as hostage against your lover.

A few nights ago, after a particularly brutal operation that had left yet another one of their own dead, Ray finally stopped circling him and brought the whole issue out into the light. Sitting down on the sofa next to Bodie and taking his hand, Ray just held it, and didn't say anything.

* * *

Doyle was silent, holding his hand for a long time. Bodie appreciated the contact. Even knowing that his feelings were returned, he was reluctant to push too hard or ask for too much, but right now the physical comfort of Doyle's touch eased him. And he wanted to reciprocate the comfort.

"Are you all right, mate?" Bodie asked, tentatively, still trying to gauge Doyle's mood.

"No. I'm not. Haven't been for a bloody long time."

Bodie's concern went up. Doyle never admitted his needs or his fears. "Tell me what's wrong."

"How can you ask that? We just lost Maxwell." Emotions came into play now, sadness, hurt, fear. Bodie could hear them all.

And it confused him. "I didn't know you were friends with him."

Doyle shook his head and sighed. "I wasn't."

"Then why are you this upset." Bodie turned to really look at his partner. But Doyle was focussed elsewhere, inward, not quite with him.

For several counts, Doyle remained that way. Then he looked up, his attention came back to Bodie. "Dammit, the circle around us has just got smaller, again. We've got to get out before it takes us too."

"Okay." Bodie wasn't that keen on leaving CI5. But, truth be told, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for Doyle. Anything: from kill to die.

"Just like that? You'd leave the mob for me?" Doyle seemed taken aback by the revelation, which surprised Bodie since he thought Doyle should have known how it was for him.

He met Doyle's eyes. "You know I would, Ray. That was never in question. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Doyle said, looking down at their joined hands, and then back up at him, green eyes over-bright. "What about security? It's something that we know how to do, and could make a real go at. I've got some money saved."

"Money's not a problem, mate." Never had been. Bodie had plenty of money. Odd as it was, he'd banked on being alive when all was said and done. As such, he'd gone against conventional wisdom during his time in Africa and saved nearly every quid he'd made. After coming home, Bodie had invested the whole lot and made a bundle on the stock exchange. The more money he made, the more of an amusement it became to Bodie – no one would ever believe he was so forward thinking.

Turning to look right at him, Doyle glared. "Then why haven't we left sooner? I've been waiting until I had enough to do something else."

"I felt like I was doing something worthwhile." Bodie shrugged. His top priority had always been guarding Doyle's back. After that, CI5 did good work, something he could be proud of -- which wasn't true of many things he'd done in his life.

"At the price of your life?" This wasn't the first time Doyle had brought up this subject. Maybe he should have mentioned the money sooner.

"Hasn't cost it yet," Bodie felt compelled to point out. But it could. Next time it might be one of them. And that didn't bear thinking about.

"We've both been lucky. And you know it. Our luck's bound to run out."

Bodie nodded. Maybe it was time to think about retirement. The constant risking of life and limb was a game for men younger than he and Doyle, those who didn't have as much to lose.

"There's something else too." Doyle dropped his eyes.

"What?" Bodie asked, wondering what else could be wrong.

Frowning slightly, Doyle still wouldn't look at him. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

Maybe it was just reassurance that Doyle required. "I meant it, Ray. If you want to leave CI5, I'll go with you."

Shaking his head, Doyle gave him a half-smile. "Bodie, you're not usually this slow."

Bodie still didn't have a clue what Doyle wanted. And now it was starting to annoy him. "Not slow at all, mate. I just can't work out what you're on about."

Doyle sighed, lifting their joined hands. "Us!"

Oh. The light finally dawned. He was talking about them, not their partnership or their friendship, but them. What was between them? "Oh, us."

"Yeah."

"What about us?"

"When we leave CI5, there can be an us."

"There could be an _us_ , even if we don't leave CI5. Cowley wouldn't have said a word and neither will Malone."

"And you well know, with field operatives, it's a bad idea. But if we leave, then if you're interested, we could try it on."

"Try what exactly?" Bodie's heart pounded a little as he asked that question. What he wanted and what Doyle wanted might be different. Nothing would disappoint him more.

A flush started on Doyle's cheeks, but he did not drop his gaze. "Being more than friends."

"How much more?"

Doyle shrugged and grinned self-deprecatingly. "I don't know. Never been more than friends with a bloke before. So you're going to have to tell me what's possible."

"Anything is possible, Ray." Whatever Ray wanted, whatever he needed, whatever he might desire, Bodie would provide it. Without question.

Doyle looked eager to try it out. For some reason, Bodie found that hard to believe. "Just like that? After what – nearly ten years, you're going to say yes?"

"It's not been easy mate. It's been a long ride...and what I'm trying to say is that I'm here." Doyle smiled, looking somewhere between smug and nervous.

"And so am I."

"Yeah, I know. You've been here waiting for me for a while, haven't you?" Only kindness and appreciation filled Doyle's words. He shifted on the sofa to face Bodie, one hand falling on his shoulder.

"I expect you'll be worth the wait." Bodie grinned.

"I hope so." And then Doyle frowned slightly. "But realistically, not right away. I'll have to work up towards some of the various bits of this."

"Let's start with something simple." Bodie leaned closer, stopping just a hair's breadth from Doyle's mouth, giving him time to pull back if he wasn't ready yet, but Doyle closed the distance between them.

The first touch of Doyle's lips sent Bodie's mind reeling, his stomach dropping, his pulse racing. As Doyle's mouth moulded to his, Bodie knew a moment of joy so exquisite that it bordered on pain.

A tentative tongue slid around the outside of his lips before coming in to taste the interior. Bodie sucked on it, hoping to make known how welcome it was. The tenderness of the moment closed his throat and brought a sting to his eyes.

He felt like a fool to be so emotional.

But dammit, he'd waited his entire life for this kiss and somehow against all odds, it lived up to every single dream he'd ever had and more.

Pulling back slightly, Doyle smiled, and leaned in again, pressing his mouth perfectly to Bodie's. Ray's other hand moved down his back, pulling him closer.

At first afraid to touch for fear of offending, Bodie took his cues from his partner. He slid both hands around Ray's back, moving slowly along the muscled surface. Bodie liked the feel of Doyle's hands on his body as much as he liked the feel of Doyle under his hands.

Passion surged between them, and Bodie groaned in pleasure as Doyle slowly pushed him backward on the sofa. Settling on top of him, Doyle slid a hand between their bodies and started to unbutton Bodie's shirt. With the first touch of fingers to flesh, Bodie arched into the caress, not quite believing it was happening.

Acquiescing to Doyle, Bodie allowed his clothes to be loosened and then tugged down or to the side as Doyle undulated on top of him, finding a rhythm that was right for both of them. His hands were no longer quiescent, pulling and tugging at Doyle's clothes until he could taste and touch bare flesh.

Bodie's hands slipped down Doyle's muscled back, moving lower until they cupped the resplendent curves of his naked bottom. A feeling of perfect joy settled over him. He'd never expected to get to this pass, never thought to experience this rush of passion and love mixed, and he certainly never thought he'd get his hands on Doyle's bare arse.

Simply moving together, driving each other higher and higher, breaking the rhythm when fire would start to peak, until finally there was nothing left in the world but themselves and their bodies moving in sync. Then it ruptured, spilling their passion between them and leaving them sated in the wake of it.

Lying together for a long moment, Bodie fought to get his breath back, savouring the after effects of a powerful orgasm and the wonderful languor it caused.

After a time, Ray moved back. "Wow. That wasn't what I expected it to be."

"What did you expect?"

"Not sure exactly, but I thought...," Ray trailed off to silence for a moment. The crease across his high forehead said that Doyle was considering the question. "I suppose... something rougher, less tender. 'Course I've nothing to base that on, never really saw two men go at it for any other reason than lust. This isn't about just lust, is it Bodie?"

Bodie shook his head. "No, it's not just lust." He took Doyle's hand and brought it to his mouth. Then he had to smile and add, "But make no mistake, there's a lot of lust, too."

Ray laughed. "I would hope so."

Leaning forward again, Bodie captured Doyle's lips for another kiss. To Bodie's pleasure, Doyle responded with considerable enthusiasm, and then took over, his tongue mapping Bodie's mouth. His hands slid over Bodie's back, retracing earlier steps.

Doyle was panting when they pulled apart again. "Don't want to start anything else."

"Fine." Bodie sucked in a gulp of air, trying unsuccessful to slow his crazily beating heart.

Raising his calloused hand to Bodie's face, Ray kissed him quickly. "I need a little time to think."

Bodie nodded, watching appreciatively as Doyle stood and stretched, completely unconscious of his naked state. "You want to go home now?"

Doyle ducked his head, nodding. "Yeah. Sorry." He picked up his clothes and took them into the loo. Water ran, and Doyle emerged a few moments later, his jeans on, carrying a wet flannel. He dropped it on Bodie's bare stomach. "You need a clean-up."

Bodie laughed. He supposed that he did. "Yeah. Thanks," he said, wiping off his belly and reaching for his own clothes.

When he was done, Doyle kissed him gently. "Thanks."

"Was more than my pleasure."

"I'm glad." Doyle pressed another quick kiss to Bodie's lips and picked up his jacket. "I'll be back tomorrow morning for our run."

As much as he wished Doyle would stay, he understood that Doyle had to have some time to work it all through in his own head. "Sure."

"Thanks mate." And Doyle was gone.

* * *

Bodie groaned as the pleasant memory faded to the reality of pain. He'd been restless, and gone out for a drink. That was the last thing he remembered until he'd woken up to find himself in this predicament, being used as a punching bag.

He coughed, and heard the wet rumble in his lungs. He'd be dead soon. And as much as it saddened him that he wouldn't be there to share Doyle's life, just knowing that his partner would be safe, off the streets with enough money to live on for the rest of his life, was a great comfort to Bodie.

The door behind him opened again and he tensed.

Hands lifted him and he heard a foul curse. His heart thudded painfully. But, he recognized that voice, and pried his eyes opened to see Doyle's green eyes dangerously bright. "Too late," he gasped out.

"Like hell, Bodie!" Despite the harsh words, Doyle's hands were gentle as he checked his injuries. It still hurt like hell to be touched.

And Doyle wasn't done with him yet. "If I'm going to all the trouble to rescue you, you dumb crud, then you damned well better live."

Bodie would have agreed to anything Doyle wanted, if he hadn't passed out first.

* * *

When Bodie woke, everything hurt; there wasn't a square inch of him that wasn't in agony. He closed his eyes, trying to persuade sleep to come back, but it didn't work. Some sound must have escaped him, because Doyle came into his line of vision.

Damn, the man looked bad, nearly as bad as Bodie felt. Several days' growth of beard was spread across Doyle's cheeks, the broken cheekbone standing out in stark relief against the bright lights of the room. What was wrong with him anyway?

A gentle hand touched his face, and Doyle's eyes met his, searchingly. "How are you feeling, mate?"

"Lousy." The words croaked out of a throat so dry he was surprised he could make a sound at all. "Thirsty."

Doyle raised a straw to his lips and Bodie took a short pull on it. Delicious cool water bathed his parched mouth, but he couldn't drink for long without gagging.

Drinking had exhausted him, and despite the pain, Bodie slid back into sleep.

* * *

He woke several times over the next few days, always in agony, always with Doyle there beside him. After a while, he'd begun to think that Doyle was sleeping there too. Nurses came in and out, doctor's probed and poked, but mostly he slept, trying to avoid the pain that greeted him on waking as much as possible.

The next time he woke, Cowley was at his bedside and this time he managed to stay conscious for a little while.

"Sir?" Bodie's voice still sounded more like a croak than anything else.

Cowley looked up, his face showing his strain and exhaustion. "How are you feeling, lad?"

"Better." Which of course was relative only to how bad he had been feeling. He tried to move and a bolt of pain sliced though his back. Considerable effort went into holding back a gasp.

Not that it did any good. Cowley put a hand on his arm and squeezed it lightly. "You shouldn't try to move."

There was something in Cowley's eyes, something more than worry, something that frightened Bodie. "Tell me, please."

"Later is soon enough."

"No. I need to know." And a worse thought occurred to him. "Doyle?"

Cowley looked surprised by the question, but then shook his head. "No. He's fine. Out looking for the men who did this to you."

Then it was only something to do with him. He could live with that, whatever it was. "All right, then tell me now."

Silent for a moment, Cowley seemed to be deciding what and how much to say. "You've been badly injured."

He knew that. But it was more than that. Cowley's reticence screamed of worse news to come. Bracing himself, Bodie met Cowley's eyes. "Yes?"

"The chances are you'll never walk without aid again."

Bodie's breath caught in his chest. He'd known that, too. It had been obvious after the first few strikes of the cricket bat, but he'd not thought he'd survive so the implications were not so severe. Now he had survived and would be crippled. "Does Ray know?"

"Yes."

And would no doubt expect to stay with him. But Bodie wasn't going to have that. He wasn't going to allow Ray to give up his life, not when there was an alternative. "Is there someplace I can go to recover? Somewhere out of London?"

Looking at him sharply, Cowley frowned. "Why? I thought Doyle and you..."

"No." Whatever he and Doyle had been, whatever they might have had, it was all gone now, and nothing would bring it back. And the sooner it was dealt with the sooner both of them could get on with their lives. "Can you get Doyle out of town for a while?"

There was understanding in Cowley's eyes. "I can try. But I don't think he'll agree to go. And I'd need his agreement."

Yeah. Cowley wasn't their controller anymore. And Doyle wasn't about to take orders from anyone on this. "You need to find a reason for him to agree."

"And what would that be?"

"The ones who did this to me. That would get him out. And I could be gone by the time he got back."

"What makes you think I'll help you?"

That was easy. "Because you understand."

And so Cowley did.

* * *

Doyle showed up at hospital two weeks after he'd last seen Bodie, satisfied that he'd got the bastards that nearly killed his partner. He went directly to the room Bodie had been in, only to find it occupied by someone else. No one seemed to know what happened to Bodie. There was little chance that he would have been released in the time Doyle had been gone.

He'd rung the hospital several times, and while he hadn't talked to Bodie, he had been given updates. The last he'd heard, Bodie was still in hospital.

So, he called central and was told Bodie no longer worked at CI5. And no, they didn't know where he was. After trying several other contacts, he came up with nothing.

How could Bodie have got lost so thoroughly? Bodie's flat had another agent living in it -- one Doyle barely knew and who knew nothing about Bodie's whereabouts. Doyle wasn't stupid; he could see a conspiracy when presented with it.

Finally, he forced his way into Malone's office, and faced down the new controller.

"Where the hell is Bodie?"

"I beg your pardon?" Malone's eyes widened at his rudeness, but Doyle was beyond caring. If he didn't get some answers soon, he'd start tearing the place apart, brick by brick.

"I said," he paused and took a breath. "Where is my partner?"

"I don't know." The words were final and told Doyle not to ask again.

As if that had any chance of stopping him. He took orders because he chose to and now was not one of those times. "Do you expect me to believe that?"

Folding his arms across his chest, Malone met Doyle's eyes, attempting to silently remind him who was in charge. "Yes. It's the truth."

"A CI5 agent doesn't just go missing, especially one who's supposed to be in hospital recovering."

Malone sighed, and shook his head, seeming to know that Doyle had no intention of giving up. "He's not missing. He was transferred to a convalescent home."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place? Where?"

"I don't know where. Haven't you been in touch with him since you left?" Malone's tone said he could not believe that.

Doyle shook his head, realizing how odd it was as he said it. "He wasn't up to talking when I called."

"I see. Who could have arranged for him to be transferred?"

"Why don't you know?"

"Because Bodie made it clear to me that he didn't want anyone seeing him while he attempted to recover. I respected his wishes."

That sounded just like Bodie. "That would not include me."

"Are you so sure of that?" There was doubt in Malone's tone, as if _he_ weren't sure whether or not Bodie had meant to include Doyle or not.

"Yes. I am very sure." He knew Bodie would want him to know where he was. All of this had to be a colossal mix-up. "Where are you sending his pension?"

"To a bank account. That's really none of your business. If Bodie wanted you to know, then I think he'd have told you. Since he didn't, I don't think we can."

Doyle took one deep breath, and then another. He would not hit Malone. It would be bad form, even if he weren't planning on quitting the mob. "I see. Then I suppose you won't be surprised that I quit."

With a sigh, Malone shook his head. "I've been expecting that since I took over for Mr. Cowley. You'll work out your contract?"

Cowley. There was a thought.

He focussed back on Malone. "Fine. It's only got a week or two, anyway. I'll be in touch." And he was out the door and down the hall before Malone could get a word out to try to call him back.

* * *

Doyle paused outside of Cowley's house. The former controller would tell him or not, but there would be no intimidating or pleading with him. He'd always had the utmost respect for George Cowley and if anyone could help him find Bodie, it would be his former boss. Knocking firmly, Doyle moved from foot to foot as he waited for Cowley to answer the door.

"Doyle," Cowley said, standing in the archway, making no move to let him in. "What do you want?"

"I've come for a visit." Doyle smiled slightly, knowing it did not reach his eyes.

"Not likely."

When manners didn't work, he tried the direct approach. "I'm looking for Bodie."

"Surely you don't expect to find him here." The incredulity of his tone made it clear what Cowley thought of Doyle's intelligence.

"No. But I think you might be able to help me find him."

Something flashed in Cowley's eyes, something that told Doyle he was in the right place. "Why would you think that?"

So, Cowley wasn't going to make it easy. Not that Doyle expected he would. "Because I think that you know something."

Cowley shrugged and stepped back. "Come in."

He led Doyle into the front room, and motioned for him to sit. "Can I get you something to drink? Scotch?"

"Yes, please." And he could use it. Doyle glanced briefly at the well-appointed room. He'd been in Cowley's home a handful of times in the years he'd worked for the man. It struck him as sad that a beautiful home was all that Cowley had for his service to his country.

A large crystal tumbler was handed to him, and he drank down half the contents in one go. "Thanks."

Sitting in one of the burgundy wing chairs next to Doyle, Cowley shook his head, and snorted. "That's no way to treat good malt, lad."

"Where's Bodie?" He wasn't in the mood for small talk. There had been enough of that already.

Meeting his eyes, the friendly politeness gone, Cowley stared hard. "Does it matter so much for you to know?"

Anger rose and Doyle controlled it with considerable effort. "Of course it does, how can you even ask that?"

"Because I know how hard it was for him to leave you."

Until that moment, Doyle had not realised that Bodie _had_ left him. Only that he was gone and for some reason they were being kept apart. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why would Bodie leave me?" Doyle was surprised at how husky his voice sounded, but could not deny the way the words had hit him.

"Because in all likelihood, he'll be crippled for life. And he didn't want to burden you with that." From the way he said it, Cowley clearly agreed with Bodie on this and Doyle would bet, had helped his partner bring it about.

Doyle felt his anger rise higher. How dare Bodie think he could make such a decision for both of them? "Too bad."

Cowley looked up sharply. "He won't be easily dissuaded. Or at all."

As if Doyle would be. Bodie had some explaining to do. "Again, too bad. He's not going to push me out of his life."

"Why not? You're just his partner."

Doyle put both hands on the arms of his chair, and let his fingers sink into the soft leather. He took a deep breath. "I'm a great deal more than that. And you know it."

"I know nothing of the kind." Cowley's look was inscrutable.

"I thought you would have noticed what was between me and Bodie." Doyle had no doubt the Cowley knew exactly what was between them. Probably had done for as long as he and Bodie, if not longer.

"Spell it out for me."

It took a second, but Doyle realised what Cowley wanted. And there was no hesitation, nor would he deny anything. "We're lovers."

"I see." Cowley sounded pleased by the revelation, as if he'd doubted Doyle would have said it out baldly. "He's at Fairfield Convalescent home in Reading."

Doyle stood, and made his way to the edge of the room, then turned back. "Thanks."

Draining the last of his drink, Cowley set the glass on an antique end table and sighed softly. "He won't thank you or me for this, Doyle."

"I know. Not at first, anyway. But in the long run..." he trailed off with a shrug. That's all he had to say, and Cowley knew the rest.

* * *

The Fairfield facility was a state-of-the-art facility -- nothing but the finest for CI5's best. Everyone was quite helpful in locating Bodie for him, so much so, that if he'd meant to harm Bodie he'd have been able to carry it off all too easily. At some point in the future, he'd ring Malone and report it, but not right now.

Outside the double glass doors of the physiotherapy department, Doyle paused to watch Bodie struggle to stand. He looked awful, limbs visibly trembling, sweat-soaked hair plastered down to his head. The track suit he was wearing hung on his frame and his chest heaved from his efforts to remain upright.

Doyle pushed through the doors without allowing himself to question the wisdom of what he was doing. Bodie looked up as he came into the big room, his mouth tightening down in a frown.

"What are you doing here?" The tone was emotionless, dry, giving nothing away.

Doyle put his hands on his hips, taking his most aggressive stance. "I would have been here sooner, but you forgot to leave a forwarding address."

His teeth gritted, Bodie collapsed back into his wheel chair, and took several deep breaths. "Maybe there was a reason for that. Did it ever occur to you that I might not want you here?"

"No." Doyle crossed his arms over his chest, and glared. "I thought you'd want your friends," and he emphasised the word, "around you now."

"Well, I don't."

But there was something in that tone, something Doyle could grasp onto and believe in. Bodie was lying. "You should have remembered, sunshine, that I'm damned difficult to get rid of."

"Doyle..." Bodie's voice trailed off and he glanced meaningfully at the young physiotherapist standing silently at his side, watching their interaction.

Intent on Bodie, Doyle hadn't even seen the thin young man, who was now trying to look invisible. "How much longer until you're done here?"

"Can't you just leave it alone and go?" Bodie's tone implied he knew there was no hope in hell of that happening.

Good thing, too since Doyle would never let this go. He smiled at Bodie. "I've just got here. You wouldn't want me to rush off, now would you?"

"Of course, not." A deep sigh accompanied the words. "I'll be finished here in fifteen minutes or so." Bodie turned to look at the physiotherapist.

"I'll wait back in your room."

Bodie gave him a silent nod and put both hands on the bar in front of him. He took a deep breath and began to push himself to his feet. Doyle stayed for a moment more, watching the struggle of will over ability. When Bodie had got himself upright, he glared at Doyle, his meaning clear and Doyle left.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Bodie wheeled himself into his room, and Doyle stood to meet him.

Holding up a hand before Doyle could open his mouth, Bodie shook his head. "Give me time to shower and dress."

Considering Bodie's sweaty and sodden state, Doyle though it was a good idea. "You know you can't put me off forever."

"Wouldn't even try." Bodie turned the chair, stopping at the wooden cupboard to retrieve his clothes before heading towards the bathroom.

Another twenty minutes passed before Bodie emerged from the steamy room in the hall. His tracksuit fresh, and his hair wet, Bodie looked, if not revitalised, then at least not on the verge of collapse.

"Let's go for a walk." Bodie rolled towards the door, holding it open for Doyle to go through. "I'd rather not discuss this where anyone might overhear."

There was some sense in that. "Fine, but I'll drive." He took hold of the handles on Bodie's chair and pushed him through the door.

The landscape was lovely. Nicely mowed rolling lawns, and well-tended paths with flowers and plants scattered around. Very soothing.

"Nice place." Now that he had Bodie where he wanted him, Doyle wasn't sure what to say or how to say it. All he knew was that he wasn't going to let Bodie go. What he and Bodie had, could have, was too important to lose because of Bodie's hurt pride.

"Sure." Bodie sounded tired, or bitter, or something else. "I don't want you here."

"I'm not leaving you." Doyle made sure his tone brooked no arguments because there would be no dissuading him. And Bodie should know him well enough to know that.

"Doyle, I'm not the man I was." Defeat, exhaustion, and pain coloured the words, but Doyle could still hear Bodie underneath it.

"You look like him to me." But Doyle knew what he meant. It didn't matter to him. Whoever Bodie was to become, he wanted to know that man.

"In this chair. Oh, right mate." Anger and bitterness had replaced the other emotions.

"Yeah. You bloody dumb fool. In that chair or out of it, you're still my partner." Doyle knew it would take more than words to reassure Bodie, but only time would tell.

"Some damned partner I'm going to be. I can't walk. I can't run. I can't shoot." Bodie took a breath, and closed his eyes for a second. "And I can't guard your back."

"It's not about your being able to walk."

"Of course it is."

Doyle shook his head. Even if Bodie couldn't see it, he was being an idiot.

Farther along the path, he saw a bench, and started for it. He sat down, and turned so that he faced Bodie at eye level. "Listen to me. Carefully. I don't want to be misunderstood." He put his hands on the arms of Bodie's chair. "You are not going to get rid of me. No matter what you do. I'll be there."

"Don't you understand," Bodie spat out, his eyes flashing with malice and pride. "I don't want you here."

Despite knowing the words for the lie they were, they still dug in deep, but Doyle didn't let it show. "Bullshit."

"Go away, Doyle." Bodie tried to pull the chair back, but Doyle didn't let it go. And finally Bodie had to give up the fight.

"You are just going to have to get used to me being here. I'm not leaving you." Not now, not ever. Even if they had never been lovers, he would not abandon a friend needing help of any kind.

Bodie closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "You're so bloody stubborn."

"And that's what why you love me." Doyle took Bodie's hand and held it.

For a moment, Bodie held on tightly, but then he eased his hand out of Doyle's grip, putting them on the side of his chair. "No. But I don't know how to fight you."

"Good."

Meeting his eye, Bodie looked grim. "This won't be easy. And I won't be a joy to live with."

"As if you ever were." Doyle smiled, but knew they were in for a rough ride. He hoped that their relationship would survive it.

"I mean it. This is going to be hard."

"I can handle it." But he wasn't as confident as he sounded. It _would_ be hard, not that there was much of an alternative to what was coming for either of them. "How soon do you get out of here?"

"Couple of weeks. But I need to find a place to live." Bodie sighed and stared out at the green lawns.

"I did noticed that. Why did you give up the flat?" As a strictly practical matter, a CI5 flat would be the most secure place for Bodie to recover.

"Not in CI5 anymore." And that would be enough for Bodie to vacate the flat, practicality having nothing to do with it.

"But you were injured in the line of duty. And therefore entitled to keep the flat. How could CI5 toss an injured agent out onto the street? Not to mention that it would be bad for morale."

"Was I? Do you know who it was?"

Bodie should have asked that sooner, Doyle thought, but perhaps he was occupied with other things. "Caught the bastards who did this to you, didn't I."

"Knew you would." Bodie smiled a ghost of his old smile, but it faded quickly. "Who?"

"Remember Jordan Kingswood?"

A crease lined Bodie's forehead for a moment, but then he nodded. "The arms dealer we put away five-six years ago?"

"Yeah, seems he was killed in a prison fight last month, and his brothers wanted revenge."

"Why me and not you?"

Trying to keep it casual, Doyle shrugged, and looked up at the sky. "Luck of the draw. They were tracking both of us."

"And we let them? Why didn't anyone pick up on it?"

"We got careless. For two trained field agents, we failed pretty miserably." Doyle shook his head. "We haven't been on the streets enough, and we were not paying attention."

Bodie snorted, making a point of looking down at himself. "Not going to be on the streets anymore."

"Neither of us are. Even if I were of a mind to continue – which as you know I am not -- without you at my back, I'd never be as effective."

"You quit?" Bodie didn't seem surprised by the revelation, wouldn't be, he knew how Doyle felt about it.

"Told you, I've been ready to go for a long time. More than ready, especially now. There wasn't anything left in CI5 for either of us. Time to get on with our lives. Together."

Bodie sighed. "I don't know, Doyle."

Doyle ignored the tentativeness of Bodie's voice and the look in his eyes. "What did you do with your stuff?"

Looking back at him, Bodie smiled sadly. "Wasn't much left when I emptied out everything. But Cowley's got it stored for me. Also said he'd help me find a place once I got out of here."

"Nice of him, but I'll do it. Need a place myself. A place big enough for both of us."

"You don't want to get into this." At least Bodie sounded like he believed that Doyle would stand by him, which Bodie should have known anyway.

"We're not going to discuss this anymore. I'm here and not leaving." Doyle put a hand on Bodie's arm and felt him stiffen.

"Doyle..." But Bodie said nothing more.

Seeing that Bodie clearly didn't want to be touched, Doyle removed his hadn't. "It will be all right. Trust me."

And Bodie nodded.

* * *

Bodie hated the flat on sight. It was cramped and small and he could not imagine why Doyle had chosen it. "Couldn't you have found something a bit more decent?"

"I got what I could afford without bankrupting us."

He pushed through the long hall to the front room. "I've got plenty of money."

"You didn't volunteer anything, so I used what I had. Besides this place is all on one level and is near to hospital for your physiotherapy."

"It's small and airless." Maybe he should have offered the money sooner, should have given Doyle access to it. But he'd half-hoped that Doyle would give up and leave hm. Half-hoped and half-feared.

"You'll get used to it." Doyle's tone said Bodie had no choice about it.

Maybe he didn't, but he didn't have to like it. "I doubt it."

Having nothing more to say, Bodie rolled the chair over to the sofa, and then manoeuvred himself onto to it. He could stand for a couple of minutes now. That was an improvement, he supposed, but the pain was constant and it did not work well on his moods. Why Doyle was still putting up with him, he did not know.

And on top of everything else, Doyle was being too damned nice, too fucking helpful, and every blessed thing he did irritated the hell out of Bodie.

"Want a cuppa?" Doyle's tone was solicitous, as if it really mattered whether or not Bodie wanted a cup of bloody tea.

"No."

"How about something to eat? I could make you a cheese sandwich." Doyle pulled an orange block out of the shopping bag on the table and held it up as some kind of damned visual aid or something.

"No."

"Is there anything else I can get for you?" How could Doyle continue to sound so bright and cheerful.

"No."

"Do you want a lie down in the bedroom? I've just put fresh sheets on the bed." Doyle stood ready to assist him.

"No."

"Fine. What do you want?" Exasperation had finally replaced that chipper tone.

"To be fucking left alone," Bodie ground out through his clenched teeth. He'd had as much of this as he could possibly take.

"All right. I'll be back later." Doyle sounded hurt.

Fuck. Bodie knew he'd finally pushed too far. "Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Where?"

"Somewhere away from you."

"Go then. Leave me alone."

"That was the idea." Doyle closed the door quietly as he walked away.

Good riddance. Bodie's back started to throb worse than before. He had to take his painkillers. And they were in the kitchen. Slowly, he stood, taking a tentative step and reaching for the hated chair. As he tried to sit in it, it rolled and he landed hard on his arse on the floor. Agony ripped through him as he jarred all of his injured limbs. For a long moment, he lay on the floor, breathing deeply and trying to absorb the pain. When he thought he could move again, he tried to sit up. It was torturous and painstakingly slow, but eventually, he managed to lean against the sofa.

He manoeuvred the chair to the edge of the sofa. Using his arms and the sofa, he finally managed to get himself into the chair. And just as his arse hit the seat the door opened and Doyle walked back in. Just a bit too late to be of any help.

The effort had burned off most of his anger.

Doyle could see there had been a problem: he pointedly looked at Bodie's sweaty appearance, but said nothing.

"I fell."

The ghost of a smile on Doyle's face faded. "What were you doing up in the first place?"

As if he had to explain why he might want to move? Looking at Doyle, he bit back his sarky answer. "Had to take the painkillers, didn't I?"

"I'd have got them for you, if you'd let me."

That was the problem of course, and it wasn't what Bodie wanted. "I can get them myself. Where'd you go?"

Doyle shrugged as if it weren't important. "For a walk."

Back throbbing again, Bodie started to turn the chair towards the kitchen to get his tablets, and Doyle put a hand on his shoulder. "Just this once, let me help you."

Common sense warred with pride and the throb in his back turned to pain and won. Bodie gave in. "All right."

Doyle grinned at him as if he'd done something special and leaned down to kiss his brow. Before Bodie could react at all, Doyle had retrieved the tablets and water. In real pain, Bodie gulped them both down without a word.

"Let me help you back onto the sofa."

Because he had no choice, he allowed Doyle to help him to the sofa, and then settle him back on the sofa. The tablets made him drowsy and he was content to let the afternoon drift away in a haze. They didn't speak again until Doyle called him for dinner.

* * *

Sweat stung his eyes and Bodie looked up from where he was hanging on the parallel bars, trying to force his legs to obey him. They would not, infuriating him. The pain he could live with; the constant weakness was another matter.

Things with him and Doyle had settled into a routine that revolved around his physiotherapy and exercise programme. Doyle cooked and cleaned and took care of things.

Part of Bodie appreciated what Doyle was doing and was glad to have him there. Another part could not stand that his partner had to take care of him. _He_ was the one who was supposed to take care, supposed to protect. It wasn't rational, he knew that, and he also knew that Doyle was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Because he could not find words to express himself, Bodie said nothing and Doyle accepted this. It had become an established pattern.

Bodie's thoughts were interrupted when Doyle came through the glass doors of the physiotherapy department.

Sitting down in the chair, Bodie wiped the sweat out of his eyes.

Doyle smiled. "Almost ready?"

"Yeah. Ten more minutes." Bodie turned to look at the physiotherapist who nodded. He could stand now, if not walk. He pushed himself out the chair and gripped the bars. It hurt to force his muscles to obey him, and for the most part they did not. But he kept trying. He would walk again.

When he'd finished, Doyle wheeled him out to the car park. After his sessions, Bodie had nothing left, and was willing to allow Doyle to help him into the car.

"How are things going?" Doyle asked as he pulled the car into the lane.

"Fine." He didn't want to talk about what was going on, but Doyle seemed to be quite interested in the whole subject, for some reason, Bodie had no idea why.

"You looked like you were having an easier time of it today."

"A bit." What could he say? Did Doyle want to hear about how much it hurt or how hard it was to force his legs to move. Even if he did, Bodie didn't want to relive it. He had to do it again tomorrow, and all he wanted now was a long hot bath and something to eat.

"What luck!" Doyle found a place to park near their flat. The times one wasn't available, he would drop Bodie on the kerb and find one.

"Great," Bodie said, trying to find the energy to be excited by a parking space.

As they came in, Bodie noticed how clean the flat was -- not that it wasn't normally -- but today it smelled of cleaning solution. He should say something about it, but didn't know what. How do you thank someone for cleaning up after you?

"Do you want a meal or a shower first?"

"Shower." Bodie wheeled himself towards the bathroom.

* * *

Doyle was tired. After four weeks of unrelenting silence from Bodie, he was ready to pack it in. It was more than clear that Bodie didn't want him there.

He'd tried. Bloody hell, he'd really tried, and if he'd received one sign from Bodie that his ministrations had helped, let alone were appreciated, Doyle would be ready to keep going. But after another long day of tidying up after Bodie and then trying to help the withdrawn sod through his physiotherapy, Doyle just didn't have anything left to give.

He looked down at Bodie, asleep in the bed they shared, black lashes closed on bruised looking eyes. Tenderness he'd rather not feel washed over him. Bodie wasn't having an easy time of it, but the therapy, the persistence and hard-headedness was paying off. They had been told today by the doctors on Bodie's case, that maybe, just maybe, Bodie might walk again after all.

With a sigh, he sat down on the bed, stripping off his shirt and tossing it on the floor.

Wearily realising he'd only have to pick it up later, he pushed himself to his feet, and threw it into the laundry basket, along with the rest of his clothes.

Once more, he looked down at the bed. Bodie was on his side with his back to the room, pushed as far to the other side as possible. As if the thought that Doyle might touch him was the main purpose for the distance.

Doyle lifted the duvet on his side, climbing in as gently as he could. Didn't want to jar Bodie awake and have the sharp edge of that tongue applied to himself, now did he?

Bodie didn't waken. Sliding down with a sigh of relived pleasure at being off his feet, Doyle snuggled down into the bedding, enjoying the warmth if not the comfort.

As he was drifting not quite asleep yet, the bed shifted and he tensed. What now?

A calloused hand drifted over his flank, and the warmth along his back grew stronger as Bodie moved closer. "Doyle?"

"What?" Surprised by the contact, it came out harsher than he'd intended.

"Just this." Bodie's face pressed to the centre of his back, nuzzling softly, before kissing the nape of his neck.

Doyle shuddered. "What?" he asked again, still not understanding, but also not able to keep his heart from pounding.

The arm on his side, moved down to his belly, pulling him back against Bodie's chest. "Thanks."

Unable to speak against the constriction in his throat, Doyle nodded.

"I mean it, Doyle." Bodie's hands tightened, moving slowly over Doyle's skin in comforting strokes.

And he could not help moving back against the warmth. "I know you do."

"Don't..." There was a hitch in Bodie's voice now, a real fear. "Please."

Doyle knew what Bodie was asking, knew he couldn't ask him to stay, not in so many words. "I won't go. Ever." Not that he ever would have done, no matter now tired or dispirited he got. "Go to sleep."

Another kiss on his back, and he could feel Bodie nod. "Yeah."

Doyle closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

\--finis


End file.
